


Fill the Places I Can't Reach

by anodyneer



Series: Sharpie Hearts [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Baristas, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, School Shootings, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Peter is the head of a security company and a former NYPD detective, Neal is a barista with a troubled and mysterious past, both of them have issues, and Sara and El play matchmaker. You know the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fill the Places I Can't Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round one of [WC Reverse BB](http://wc-reverse-bb.livejournal.com/) for [this art](http://angelita26.livejournal.com/111756.html) by epic promptress [angel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/angel). :) This may be the first of a series if there's enough interest. For this AU, Neal is 30 years old and Peter is about twelve years older. Title is from "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon.
> 
> Warning: Brief, not particularly graphic description of school shootings (past event).
> 
> The very talented [Kanarek13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13) has created amazing cover art for each fic in this series - thank you so much! <3

* * *

Peter Burke arrived at the Starbucks a full twenty minutes early for his meeting and took his place in line. He’d chosen a time after the morning rush but well before the lunch rush, so there were only two other people ahead of him. As was his habit, he gave the place a thorough once-over, taking in every little detail. There was a couple at the table nearest the door, a woman with both a tablet computer and a legal pad at one of the tables against the wall, and an elderly gentleman in the waiting area. Nothing looked out-of-place, and he allowed himself to relax, turning his attention to the people behind the counter.

He wasn’t surprised to see Sara Ellis, the store’s co-owner and manager and his close friend, taking orders and orchestrating the staff ballet. There was another barista behind the counter, a sweet blonde named Sophie who Sara counted as her best employee. She gave Peter a quick wave when she saw him in line, then went back to the drink she was preparing.

Behind them, a man with an enviable head of wavy dark hair was struggling with cleaning one of the urns. Peter could only seem him from the back, and what he saw wasn’t half bad. His black shirt stretched over a wiry back, and the sides and ties of his green apron framed an ass that would have looked amazing with just a little more substance to it. The man was just barely on the unhealthy side of slim, and Peter wondered if maybe he’d been ill recently.

When Peter got to the counter, Sara greeted him with a welcoming smile. “Peter! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here. Couple of weeks, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grinned at her and leaned over the counter. “Would you believe me if I said I came here because I decided it was about damn time I finally proposed to you?” Though Sara knew Peter was gay, they still enjoyed getting a little flirty with each other, and the proposal was a running joke between them. 

“About as much as I’d believe you’re here to sell me a bridge.” She shook her head but gave him a wink. “Your usual?”

“Grande caffe latte instead. I’m here for a business meeting.”

“I knew it!” She pulled the cup and added the appropriate markings and his name. “Business picking up then?”

“It’s getting there.” Peter had started his private security services business six months earlier, but even with his excellent references from law enforcement officials all over the city, he’d had a hard time finding clients. Most already had a company on which they depended, and those who didn’t seemed to get their referrals from those who did. Breaking into the market had been harder than he’d thought, but he was finally starting to get some clients that would give him more word-of-mouth business.

“I hope so. You deserve it.”

Peter nodded in the direction of the man behind the counter. “So who’s the new guy?”

Sara was just about to answer when there was a loud clattering from the area where he was working, followed by long groan and a mumbled profanity. Sara rolled her eyes and whirled on him, hands on her hips. “Come on, Neal, seriously? That’s the third time this week. I’m paying you to clean, not make bigger messes.”

The man – Neal – turned to her, his hands held out at his sides. Though he looked alarmingly pale in general, his cheeks were bright red, and he couldn’t seem to make eye contact with Sara. “Sorry, Sara, I’m really sorry. I’ll…clean it up.” Neal’s eyes flicked to Peter, a brief flash of blue, before quickly looking away. His hands were shaking, shoulders slumped, and Peter couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Sara could be blunt, and she liked everything to be in order. 

“You do that.” Sara turned back to Peter and quickly took his payment, then moved down to the other end of the counter with him while Sophie made his drink. “That’s Neal,” she said, nodding in his direction. “I took him on as a favor for an old friend.” She turned her head and raised her voice enough for Neal to hear it. “On a _trial_ basis.” 

Neal stopped cleaning, and his chin dropped to his chest. Peter could see his shoulders rising and falling as he took a few deep breaths before going back to what he’d been doing. 

“Ah, take it easy on the guy, Sara. It looked like an accident from where I was standing.”

“Yeah, well that’s just the latest one. Ask him why we don’t have any chocolate marble loaf cakes this morning.”

Peter stared at Sara in disbelief. He knew she could be a hardass sometimes, but he wasn’t used to her being so overtly unsympathetic. Before he could say anything to her, Neal again stopped what he was doing. He stood there for a moment, staring down at the cloth in his hand, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. Peter couldn’t tell if he was frustrated or nauseated – or both.

“Hey, you okay, buddy?” Peter called, watching him curiously.

Neal didn’t respond; he simply sighed and headed into the back. Sara shook her head and looked back at Peter. “I don’t know what’s up with him today.” She took Peter’s drink from Sophie and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” Peter cocked his head at her. “And I’m not sure he’s the problem. Do I need to go buy you the big bag of M&Ms?”

Sara stared at him for a few seconds before finally breaking into a smile. “No, Peter, I’m not PMSing. He just tries my patience sometimes.”

“Is he sick or something? He doesn’t look very healthy. How long has he been here?”

“He’s fine, and this is his second week.”

“Oh yeah, he should obviously be an expert by now.” Peter reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You know that saying about honey and vinegar?”

“Of course – but I’m running a business, not catching flies.” As another customer stepped up to the counter, she patted the back of his hand and left.

Peter took his drink, then grabbed a couple of napkins before heading to his favorite table near the back, the one that had the clearest view of the entire store. He sat down and sipped at his coffee, watching for his newest client to arrive and going over his sales pitch in his head.

Owning his own business was something Peter would have never considered before that fateful day nearly three years earlier, when he’d been shot in the line of duty. His dream of spending his career as an NYPD detective was blown away by the bullets that lodged in his left thigh and tore through his knee. His devotion to physical therapy – and his overall fitness before the shooting – had left him with a slight limp, some nerve damage, and the tendency to be a human barometer, but he’d been unable to pass the reinstatement physical and had been forced to take a disability retirement.

Sara had gotten him an apartment on the first floor of the building she owned – thanks to the divorce settlement that had also given her partial ownership of the Starbucks where Peter now sat – and had given him a generous break on the rent. He didn’t have a problem getting by on his pension, but he hadn’t been able to cope with not working.

After consulting with a lawyer and the medical board about how much work he was legally allowed to do without violating the terms of his disability, he’d settled for running the business aspect of the company and occasionally going out to supervise at certain events. He left most of the field supervision to his partner and close friend, Diana Berrigan, who was his director of operations and took charge of the physical side of things.

The door opened again, and when Peter glanced up, something told him that the new arrival was his prospective client, Elizabeth Mitchell. She stopped just inside the door and scanned the store, and he gave her a quick wave. She smiled and pointed to the register, and when he nodded, she stepped up to give her order.

As Elizabeth spoke to Sara, Peter’s attention was drawn to the area behind the counter. Neal had returned and was cleaning up the last of the mess he’d made. He still looked somewhat defeated, but he’d pulled himself together and was at least holding his head higher. 

Almost as though he’d sensed he was being watched, the younger man suddenly looked up at him, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat. Though he looked vaguely gaunt, Neal was still strikingly beautiful, with a chiseled jawline and cheekbones set in the most symmetrical face he’d ever seen. Peter was startled to find himself immediately fascinated by – and maybe attracted to, if he was being honest – the other man, and he couldn’t seem to look away. Neal shifted self-consciously from the scrutiny, but if Peter wasn’t mistaken, he also didn’t seem to mind the attention.

Peter gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and after a moment, Neal nodded and answered with a smile of his own. Like the rest of him, Neal’s smile was stunning, and Peter was so lost in it that he almost didn’t notice Elizabeth Mitchell’s approach. Thankfully, years of police work meant that no one was able to sneak up on him, and he pulled his attention away from Neal, standing to greet her with an outstretched hand as she approached.

“Good morning,” she said, her blue eyes giving him a quick once-over as she shook his hand. “You must be Peter Burke. I’m Elizabeth Mitchell.”

“I am, and it’s nice to meet you.” Peter reached to pull out her chair, but she waved him off.

“Please, sit.” She sat in the seat across from his and took a sip of her drink before reaching into the bag she’d brought with her and pulling out a folder. She put it on the table between them and hung the bag over the back of the chair. “Mr. Burke, I need to make a few things clear before we get started. I had an great relationship with my previous security service, but as you probably know, they’re out of business until further notice.”

Peter knew exactly what she meant and gave her a grim nod. HES Services, one of the city’s premiere private security firms, had lost their entire management team in a small plane crash off Martha’s Vineyard two weeks earlier. All of their clients had been left scrambling for other services, and he hadn’t been surprised when business started to pick up. One of the first calls he’d gotten was from Mitchell Premiere Events.

“I’d never heard of your company before,” she continued, “but you do come highly recommended. Is it true that your entire staff has either a police or military background?”

“They do,” Peter replied. “Some of them have both. All of them went through a thorough screening process before being hired and are highly trained in various aspects of security, protection, and defense. My company is still relatively new, but I have several positive testimonials if you’d like to see them.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary.” She paused to take another sip of her drink, then smiled, her eyes softening as they met his. “The friends who recommended you are ones I trust very deeply. I need you to understand, though, that this is a very important event, and I’m hiring you on a trial basis. If I like what I see, I’ll be moving all of my event security needs to your company. If not…well, needless to say, you won’t be adding mine to your list of testimonials.” Her smile turned a bit mischievous, and Peter couldn’t help mirroring it.

“I suppose not.” In spite of the smile, Peter couldn’t help feeling just a little intimidated by the woman’s strong presence. He was also struck by the fact that she’d used the phrase _on a trial basis_ – the very same words Sara had used to describe Neal’s employment. He glanced away and took a drink of his coffee, then allowed himself to take a closer look at Elizabeth while she pulled some papers out of the folder between them.

She was more gorgeous than he’d first realized, with a mane of long dark hair and striking blue eyes that were accentuated by the dress she wore. If she’d been a man, she would definitely have been Peter’s type – and he readily admitted to having a type. _Neal was his type._

He swallowed hard and pushed away the thought, shaking himself and taking another drink of coffee before turning his attention to the paperwork in front of him.

“We’ll be hosting a gathering of the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission at the Ellington mansion on Riverside Drive. You’re familiar with the location, I hope?”

Peter nodded and took a look at the first paper, an event itinerary. “I am, yes. Beautiful place. French Renaissance, designed by Byron Ellington himself. Four floors plus staff quarters in the basement, marble and woodwork everywhere, and a widow with a story as interesting as the place itself.”

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment, clearly impressed. She hadn’t given him the information about the event ahead of time; he just had a passion for architecture and could’ve given her similar details about many of the city’s landmark buildings.

“That’s the place,” she finally said. “The event will be restricted to the first floor of the mansion, and we expect it to last approximately three hours.” She pushed a floor plan across to him. “I already have a list of security requirements in mind, but I’d like to get your thoughts as well.”

Peter knew he was being tested, and he gave the floor plan a thorough once-over before glancing back up at her, his finger pointing to each spot as he listed them. “Well, it’s a given that we’ll need someone posted at the stairs to the second floor and the stairs to the basement. I’d put two here at the front entrance – one to check invitations and another to make sure no one slips through, plus three roving guards inside and two patrolling the grounds outside, preferably with at least one canine. The only entrances to the grounds are through the basement, but with all of the distractions, I wouldn’t put it past someone to jump the wall from the outside and try to get in that way.” He reached down and patted his left leg, stretched out under the table. “I’ll also be there, but only in a supervisory capacity – and as backup if needed.”

When Peter finally looked back up at her, Elizabeth’s blue eyes were fixed on him, and she was giving him a genuine smile. “I think I’ve heard enough, Mr. Burke. You’ve got the job.” She held out her hand once again, and Peter shook it.

“Call me Peter, please.”

“In that case, I’m Elizabeth – or El.”

They spent nearly an hour going over the paperwork and the event details, and as they got acquainted, Peter realized he really liked and respected El Mitchell. She was driven but sweet, and he found it easy to relax around her. She was also smart, and Peter loved smart.

Just as they were starting to wrap things up, Peter overheard Sara telling Neal to do a quick bus of the lobby and then go on his lunch break. He glanced up just in time to see the younger man walk out, cloth in hand, and start wiping the empty tables. His back was turned to them, and Peter had an excellent view of Neal’s ass as it moved in time with his arm. When he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot, Peter though he might hyperventilate.

Some faraway part of his conscious reminded him that El was still sitting across from him and probably wouldn’t appreciate the reaction that was threatening to take place under the table, and he reluctantly shifted his eyes, only to find her watching him. She raised her eyebrows, then turned to see what had caught his attention. Neal had moved on to a different table and was half-facing them but didn’t seem to notice the extra scrutiny.

“Oh my. Not to be shallow, but he’s very pretty.”

Peter was once again distracted, this time by the shirt stretching over Neal’s shoulders and the way the man’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Yeah. He is.” The words slipped out before his filter could catch them. When Peter realized what he’d said, he closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead, already feeling the deep blush spreading up his neck and into his cheeks. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. Please, I…” It was all he could manage before trailing off in embarrassment. 

He was stunned when El’s hand settled on top of his, and he opened his eyes, looking from their hands to her face. “Why are you sorry?” She seemed genuinely curious – and not at all put off by his admission. “You were just being honest, and I respect that. Besides, what I said was pretty unprofessional to begin with. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Peter’s mouth worked, but nothing came out at first, and he didn’t have any coffee left to cover the awkwardness. He cleared his throat and gave her a frank look. “No, you shouldn’t. You’re not the only one who respects honesty. I just –”

“You don’t make a habit of revealing your sexual orientation to your clients. I get it.” When Peter nodded, deciding to stick with the honesty, she smiled at him. “Well, it’s refreshing to see you’re not ashamed of who you are. A man who looks like you do, and former law enforcement at that – I’m sure people make assumptions all the time.”

“They do,” Peter admitted, feeling the blush starting to fade. “Never the correct one, but I don’t mind leaving it that way. It’s better for business.”

El’s smile faded a bit and she sighed. “It’s a shame to say, but even in this day and age, that’s probably true.”

Peter nodded and looked away, focusing briefly on the folder between them before his eyes moved back to Neal, who was now wiping one of the nearby tables. When El saw him looking, she nudged his hand with hers and grinned.

“So I guess the only question left,” she whispered, “is whether he plays for your team or mine.”

Peter nearly choked on his own saliva, and his coughing caught Neal’s attention. At his concerned look, Peter just waved and tried to keep from blushing again. El turned to look at Neal.

“He’s fine, sweetie. Swallowed crooked or something.”

Neal’s eyes locked with Peter’s, and he approached the table. “Can I get you something? A refill or some water?”

“Water would be great,” Peter managed to rasp out. Neal nodded, his gaze lingering on Peter’s face for just a moment before he disappeared.

“Well, I guess that answers that question,” El said with a soft giggle. When Peter cocked his head, she gave him a teasing look. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t notice. He looked at you like you were on the menu, Peter. I’m not sure it even registered with him that I was here.”

Before Peter could come up with a response, Neal returned with a bottle of water. “Thanks,” Peter said, cracking it open and taking a few sips. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on me.” When Peter’s eyes went wide, Neal held up a placating hand. “I didn’t steal it – I paid for it. I’m already on Sara’s bad side as it is.” He glanced briefly at Elizabeth and gave her an acknowledging smile before turning his attention back to Peter. “Anyway, I hope that helps. Let me know if I can get you anything else.” Before Peter could respond, Neal grabbed his cloth from the neighboring table and went up front to the condiment bar to start cleaning there.

“I’d say that definitely settles it,” El said with a sly grin. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed so much in such a short period of time, but he felt his cheeks warming yet again. He was sure El noticed, but she didn’t mention it. “And on that note, I should go. These are your copies, so I’ll leave them with you. I’ll be in touch by Friday of next week so we can finalize the staffing plans, the schedule, and any last-minute details. My card is clipped to the inside of the folder in case you need to contact me for anything.” She gave him a soft smile. “It was great meeting you, Peter. I’m looking forward to doing business with you.”

Peter returned the smile. “Likewise.” When she started to slide out of her seat, he stood, his manners coming back to him. He offered a hand to her, and she took it. “Thanks for giving us a chance. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

“I don’t either.” She grabbed her empty cup, slung her bag over her shoulder, and nodded in Neal’s direction. “If you don’t mind a little unsolicited advice, don’t let that one get away.” When Peter raised his eyebrows, she gave him a puzzled shrug. “There’s just something about him – besides the obvious – that’s intriguing. And it’s clear he’s interested.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving Peter gaping after her. When she got to Neal, she stopped and appeared to say something to him before throwing her cup in the trash and heading out the door.

Neal glanced back at Peter, then walked behind the counter and disappeared into the back. Peter thought about just leaving, but he was hungry, and Elizabeth’s last words to him were still ringing in his ears.

 _It’s clear he’s interested_.

Peter rubbed at his thigh, working through a slight cramp in the scarred muscle there, before walking up to the counter. Neal was nowhere to be seen, but Sara took his order – a turkey panini and a cinnamon chip scone – and moved on to the next customer. It was just about time for the lunch rush to start so she didn’t have time for small talk, which was just as good anyway. Peter wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate when his mind was on an _interested_ Neal.

He’d just settled back into his seat with his food when a movement beside him caught his eye. It was an apron-less Neal, and he sat down at the next table over, facing Peter. He had one of the store’s chicken Caesar salads and what looked like a stainless steel jar, as well as another bottle of water, napkins, and utensils. He busied himself with his food at first, and Peter could tell that the younger man was deliberately trying not to look at him.

 _Definitely interested_.

Peter smiled and took a bite of his sandwich, watching Neal over the top of it. The younger man finally looked back up at him, then answered with a smile of his own.

“Hey,” he called over, just loudly enough for Peter to hear him. “It’s Peter, right? Thanks for sticking up for me earlier.” His smile turned shy, and Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

“No problem, Neal,” Peter replied. “Thanks again for the water.”

Neal’s whole face lit up as if he hadn’t expected Peter to remember his name. It warmed Peter from head to toe, and he took a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat. When he realized that Neal hadn’t started eating yet and was still eyeing him closely, Peter threw caution to the wind, vaguely proud that he was able to do so without a drop of alcohol in him.

“Would you like to join me?”

Neal’s jaw dropped, and Peter silently cursed his recklessness. He was good at reading people, though, and when Neal glanced at the side entrance to the kitchen area, Peter understood what was going on.

“Don’t worry about Sara,” he said. “I’ll deal with her if it comes to that.” Neal gave him a dubious look, and Peter nodded. “She and I go way back.” Neal’s eyes again darted to the kitchen. “I won’t get you fired, I promise.”

Neal stared at his food for a moment, considering, before he got up and started moving his things to Peter’s table. When he’d finished, he slipped into the other seat, and one of his legs bumped against Peter’s. The older man winced and shifted to give Neal a little more room.

“Sorry.” Neal looked stricken. “Shit. I’m sorry. I swear, I’m normally not this clumsy. Today…hasn’t been a good day.” He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I got that impression earlier. And you don’t have to apologize. I should’ve thought to move.” He took a bite of his sandwich as Neal settled in across from him.

“Well, it looked like it hurt, and the last thing I need to be doing is injuring customers.” Neal poked at his salad with a plastic fork, mixing in the dressing.

“It’s an old injury. Not your fault.” Again, Peter busied himself with his sandwich, hoping Neal got the point that he didn’t want to elaborate. Thankfully, the younger man simply nodded and took a bite of his salad. They ate in silence for a few moments, which gave Peter some time to gather his wits.

It hadn’t just been pain that shot through his knee when Neal touched him; the contact was intense, electric. His body was still tingling from it. It had been so long since anyone made him feel that way. So long since anyone was interested. He’d been labeled a hero because of the shooting – because of the children he’d saved – but when the attention faded and everyone moved on to the next big story, Peter was just another footnote.

He’d been in tremendous pain, facing months of physical therapy and years of reconditioning, knowing he’d never be able to return to the job he’d loved and that he’d likely feel the aftereffects of the shooting for the rest of his life. His last serious relationship had ended nearly a year before he was injured, and after…well, dating was the last thing on his mind. There were times during those months of recovery when he’d look down at the scars, at the crutches or the cane he’d had to use back then, and he didn’t think he’d ever find someone who’d be able to look past those things. So he’d simply stopped hoping.

Peter gazed at the young man across from him, his black button-down flecked with tiny cream-colored spots of something from the kitchen that had made it past the edges of the apron, and a tiny flame of hope sparked deep in his belly. Neal hadn’t seen the scars, of course – the physical or the mental ones – but just knowing that a man so beautiful was willing to give him a chance was enough.

“What?” Neal looked down at himself, then back up at Peter. “Oh. Um, tragic smoothie accident. Don’t ask.”

Peter dragged himself out of his reverie and chuckled. “I won’t.”

Neal nodded and opened the stainless steel jar, which looked to contain some kind of brothy soup. He ate a couple spoonfuls and wiped his mouth. “Sara’s pretty pissed at me,” he offered. “I don’t blame her, though. I was doing alright until today.”

Peter shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Things happen. You looked like you weren’t feeling well earlier. Sara can be tough, but she’s always been fair. And I’ll put in another good word for you, too.” When Neal’s eyes widened, Peter grinned. “You know, for the water earlier.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah.” Neal looked a bit subdued and seemed to suddenly find his soup fascinating. “So, the woman you were with…nevermind, it’s not any of my business. Sorry.”

Peter had to fight the urge to laugh. He was used to being the one who was horrible at flirting, and he suspected that Neal was excellent at it when he was at the top of his game. The fact that the roles were now reversed allowed him to relax a bit more.

“She _was_ a prospective client. Now she’s my newest client.” He grinned and took a bite of his sandwich, washing it down with some water. 

“Good, good.” Neal seemed relieved but still distracted, working on his soup in earnest.

Something dawned on Peter. “Hey, do you mind if I ask what she said to you on the way out?”

Neal almost choked on his soup and covered his mouth with a napkin, his eyes wide above it. He coughed a few times before finally managing to clear his throat, then took a long drink of water, his cheeks red once again.

Peter, normally a very handsy person, had to fight the urge to reach out and give Neal’s forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

“Mmm. Yeah, sorry.” Neal rolled his eyes at his own apology and managed a smile, switching back to his salad. “She, um. She said I could have her seat.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “Do all women just automatically think they’re matchmakers?”

Neal froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, and just stared. A number of emotions seemed to flicker across his face without settling there – curiosity, denial, apprehension, hope. The last one finally stuck, but he still didn’t move.

It took a moment for Peter to catch up, and he flashed back to what El had said earlier about assumptions. Neal hadn’t known for sure that Peter was gay. Even Diana, who seemed to have near-flawless gaydar, had needed to ask him all those years ago just to be sure.

Peter had to do something to break the tension, so he gave Neal a sly smile. “Bet she didn’t bother to ask you if you were seeing someone, right?”

Neal dropped the fork back into his salad and worried the napkin between his fingers. “No, she didn’t.”

Time to pull out all the stops. “Are you?”

Neal’s reply was barely above a whisper. “Uh, no. I’m not.” This time, there was definitely hope in his eyes when they finally met Peter’s again. “You?”

Peter shook his head, still a little shocked by his own boldness. “Not for a long while, no.” He thought he heard Neal mumble an _oh, god_ under his breath, but he couldn’t be sure. They just watched each other for a moment, and Peter thought he might get lost in the brilliant blue of Neal’s eyes. They were both trying to figure out where to go next when Sara made the decision for them.

“Neal!”

“Shit,” Neal breathed, closing his eyes. Peter looked up to see Sara standing just outside the side door to the kitchen, hands on her hips. She walked over to stand beside the table.

“When did you clock out?”

Neal pushed himself up off of the chair far enough to pull his cell phone out of his pocket and check it. “I have almost ten minutes left.”

Sara opened her mouth, then shut it again, her eyes shifting from Neal to Peter and back again.

“Sara,” Peter said, now firmly in the zone. “Seriously. Chocolate. Trust me.”

Again, her mouth opened, and she looked ready to tell him off. Peter raised his eyebrows expectantly, and Sara finally smiled, dropping her hands to her sides. “It’s not PMS. It’s not. He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No,” Peter answered pointedly. “I invited him to sit here. He’s fine where he’s at. Don’t tell me you don’t trust me to keep an eye on him.” He looked over at Neal and winked, and Neal gave him a smile so sweet that he wanted to melt. Or lean across the table and kiss him. He wisely decided to turn his attention back to Sara instead. “I think I hear a double chocolate chunk brownie calling your name.”

“Oh, shut up, Burke.” She gave his right foot a playful kick and grinned at him – and at Neal, who was watching them with a thoroughly bemused expression on his face.

“Two brownies and a venti salted caramel mocha with whole milk and whipped cream.” 

“Peter, stop. You’re making me fat just listening to you.” At that, both of them chuckled, and even Neal managed to crack another smile. “Okay, boys, I’ll leave you alone. How long now, Neal?”

Neal checked his phone again. “Yeah, I should probably head back.” He looked apologetically at Peter and started packing up what was left of his food.

This time, it was Peter’s turn to apologize. “Look, Neal, I’m sorry I kept you from finishing your lunch.” He felt a genuine pang of regret; the younger man definitely looked like he could use a good meal – or several.

“Don’t worry about it.” Neal smiled at him, though it was obvious he was self-conscious of Sara standing there. “I don’t really have much of an appetite today anyway.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, then held the right one out to Peter. “It was nice meeting you, Peter. Thanks for…you know.” He waved a hand at the table. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You will.” Peter shook the proffered hand and flashed him his best smile, and the one Neal gave him in return was blinding. He almost forgot how to speak. “And, uh, thank you. For the help. Earlier. And for having lunch with me.” _Damn_. So much for being in the zone.

Neal nodded and gave him a last look before slipping around Sara and disappearing through the door. 

“Peter Burke. You have a crush.”

“I’m too old for crushes.” Peter popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth and started to wrap his scone in a napkin to take with him.

“But you like him.”

“But I like him.” He pushed himself up with a smug smile, shaking his left leg a few times to work the stiffness out.

Sara grabbed the trash from his table and tossed it into the nearby receptacle as he gathered his scone, water, and the folder of paperwork. “Well, good. Maybe you can bring him out of whatever funk he keeps falling into. He’s fine for a few days, and then he crashes, and I get a day like today from him. And for whatever it’s worth, it looked like the feeling was mutual.”

“I hope so,” Peter admitted softly. “Take it easy on him. He sounded pretty down about messing things up.” Peter leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “And see if you can get him to finish his lunch on his next break. He looks like he could use a few good meals.”

“Only for you.” She ran a hand down his arm and gave him a knowing look. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” Peter blinked at her, and she answered his question before he even asked it. “He works day shift all week.”

Peter smiled. “See you tomorrow, Sara.”

\-------------

As Sara predicted, Peter showed up at Starbucks for lunch every day that week, and every day the following week, always right around the time when Neal would be taking his half-hour break. They sat at Peter’s usual table in the back and made small talk, although Peter tried to make sure Neal had enough time to eat.

Though both Sara and Neal swore she was training him as a barista, he was usually cleaning the tables when Peter arrived – and he seemed to be aware of exactly what that view did to Peter. He wiped all of the tables with his back to the older man, occasionally throwing a glance over his shoulder to see if he could catch Peter ogling his ass. He was always successful, mainly because Peter never made any effort to look away.

Sara, too, seemed to be set on teasing Peter about the budding relationship. On Thursday of the first week he started eating lunch with Neal, Peter noticed something new on his drink cups. Below his name, Sara had drawn a heart. Another one appeared on Friday. By the second week, they were getting more elaborate, sometimes with more than one heart – usually intertwined, other times with an arrow through the middle. Wednesday’s heart was anatomically correct and made Peter laugh so hard he nearly spilled his Italian roast.

He shared the Sharpie art with Neal, who usually blushed and shook his head before giving Peter a sweet smile. He asked once or twice if Peter minded it, but he actually didn’t. As strange as it sounded, seeing the hearts on his cup made him feel cared for. Not only did he have Neal’s company, but he had close friends who wanted him to be happy.

Since Neal only had half an hour for lunch, they tried to keep their conversations light, just getting to know each other and occasionally talking about current events or Peter’s uncanny ability to predict changes in the weather.

Peter did discover that Neal was an artist in his free time, and that he’d fallen on hard times recently, though he never elaborated. He was working at the Starbucks to get back on his feet, and he spoke of someday giving private art lessons or teaching and putting back some money to travel. He loved wine and the French impressionists, Motown and classic movies, swimming and educating himself about anything that caught his fancy.

And as impossible as it seemed, Peter came to realize he was falling madly in love with the man. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, and he had to consciously remind himself to relax and enjoy it instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

On Thursday of that second week, Sara stopped Peter as he was leaving, making sure Neal wasn’t nearby before she spoke. “Peter, whatever it is you’re doing for Neal, keep doing it.”

Peter cocked his head. “I’m having lunch with him. You’ve seen us every day.”

“I know, and it’s wonderful! He actually seems to look forward to being here now. He hasn’t dropped or ruined anything since you invited him to sit with you last Monday. And he’s eating more, which is definitely helping his health.”

Peter looked down at his feet, trying not to blush. “Well, if it matters, he’s doing good things for me, too.”

“It matters.” She put a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. “Be careful, though. Have you talked to him about the business?”

“No, we’ve mainly been talking about hobbies and the news, things like that. I don’t want to scare him away.”

“You should tell him, Peter.”

“Oh, really? And why’s that?”

“Did he tell you why he’s working here?” Sara again looked over her shoulder at Neal, who was helping Sophie with a drink order.

“He didn’t. He said he had a few problems, and that you were giving him a chance to get back on his feet.”

“Peter, he broke into the home of a friend of mine and was caught stealing some very valuable jewelry. I never got the whole story, but she decided not to press charges, and she asked me to let him work here as a favor until he could get back on his feet. She promised he wouldn’t steal anything, and he hasn’t, but I worry about how he’ll react when he finds out you were a cop and that you still work in law enforcement.”

Peter’s heart sank, and the sandwich he’d eaten shifted uncomfortably in his stomach. “Yeah. I’ll tell him tomorrow. I guess.” Peter’s brow furrowed, and he gave her a resigned look. “You think it’ll really bother him?”

“I hope not,” she said with a sigh. “I like the two of you together, and you’re really good for him. I just think it would be better to find out sooner rather than later.”

Peter nodded, his chest aching. He had to get some fresh air, had to get away from the idea of Neal turning him away because he’d been a detective. And away from the idea that Neal was a thief.

“I – I should go, Sara. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response – and without looking back at Neal – he hurried out the door and away from the shop. He only managed to make it a few blocks before he had to stop, his lungs and leg burning. Slumping down on a nearby bench, he leaned over and propped his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands.

He sat there for countless minutes, giving his breathing a chance to settle and working through the cramp in his leg. It would be raining by evening, he could already tell, and he should have brought his cane. He eventually felt grounded enough to lift his head, and he settled in, watching the traffic and people moving around him.

“Peter?” It took him a moment to find the source of the voice. “Peter Burke?”

It was Elizabeth Mitchell, and she was approaching him with a friendly smile on her face. In spite of his earlier inner turmoil, he couldn’t help smiling back at her. There was something about the woman that instantly calmed him. He stood to meet her and motioned for her to sit down.

“I thought that was you,” she said, taking a seat near the middle of the bench, which forced him to sit close to her. “I was actually just on my way back to the office, and I was going to call you from there, but – here you are!”

“Here I am.” His smile widened, and he leaned back again, draping one arm over the back of the bench and stretching his left leg out in front of him.

“I just got the grand tour of the Ellington mansion. Peter, it’s incredible; I think you’ll love it. Since you’re supervising, you’ll have a chance to look around, right?”

“I think I can fit it in at some point,” he said with a chuckle. Her happiness was contagious; all thoughts of what he’d learned about Neal left his head as she told him some of her favorite things about the mansion, and he let himself get lost in her vivid descriptions.

“You know what? I’ll bet June would be happy to give you a tour next Friday. She’s a wonderful hostess, and sharp, too.” Her hand moved to Peter’s knee – his right one, thankfully – and gave it a quick squeeze. 

“That would be perfect.” 

“So, I was going to see if you wanted to come in this afternoon or tomorrow morning to finalize the details and work through the contracts. Since we’re so close, though, do you have time to come in now?”

Peter held up a finger, then pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “I’m free until two,” he replied. 

“That’s more than enough time. So it’s settled then?”

“Sure. Let me just check in with Diana.” He stood and walked a few feet away, consciously trying not to limp, then made a quick call to let Diana know where he was going. When he hung up, Elizabeth walked over to him and gestured to his leg.

“Should we get a cab, or are you okay for three blocks?”

“I’ll be fine.” He gave her a smile and, as if to prove his point, linked his arm in hers and started walking. 

\-------------

“Everything okay, Peter?” Neal nudged his foot under the table and gave him a concerned look. “You seem a little distracted today.”

Peter looked down at his sandwich and sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Neal was in a great mood, almost seeming to vibrate in his seat with an excitement that Peter couldn’t match. He didn’t think he’d be able to finish his lunch; the few bites he’d eaten were sitting in a leaden lump in his stomach, and the increasing nausea had robbed him of his appetite. 

“You’re not getting sick are you?” Neal had stopped eating and was eyeing him with uncertainty.

“Don’t think so.” Peter took a tentative sip of his water; he’d skipped the coffee altogether, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stomach any of his usual choices. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Neal’s smile returned. “So do I.” He seemed to struggle with something for a moment, then reached across the table and touched Peter’s hand. “I’m just going to do this while I have the nerve. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Or if tomorrow’s better, that works, too.”

The eagerness on the younger man’s face broke Peter’s heart. He knew he needed to tell Neal what he did for a living before agreeing to a date with him, and he also knew how Neal was likely to react. He’d tried to convince himself that the other man would be completely accepting, but it did little to get rid of the overwhelming dread perched on his shoulders.

Peter took a deep breath and swallowed hard before finally answering. “Neal, there’s something I need to tell you first.” 

Neal slowly put down his fork, the smile disappearing from his face. “Um, okay.”

Peter looked into Neal’s eyes, into the beautiful sea of blue he’d started seeing in his dreams at night, and he wanted to lay down and surrender himself to this man. He wanted to run with him to some exotic island, or to an isolated mountain cabin, and just hide from the world and from who they really were. He could tell Neal he was an accountant or an architect or anything other than a person who put people – including thieves – behind bars.

It took Peter several long moments to work up the courage to continue, fighting the tightness in his chest, the burn in his throat.

“How much do you know about what I do for a living?”

Neal seemed almost relieved, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You own your own business, right? Something to do with planning events?”

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach, which was somewhere around his knees by then. He looked away, hoping Neal wouldn’t see the uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s an event _security_ firm, Neal. We provide security for high-profile events and executive protection, and we do audits and consulting and emergency crisis response.” When he looked back up, Neal was watching him warily. Peter’s voice was low and thick when he continued. “I’m – I was a detective with the NYPD until I got shot almost three years ago.” 

Neal just stared at him for a moment, but Peter could already tell that his response wasn’t going to be good. His whole body had tensed, and though he was trying to hide it, it was obvious that the news had shaken him badly. 

“Neal…” Peter held up his hands, his eyes pleading with the other man to understand.

“You were a _cop_?” He spat the word out viciously, blue eyes blazing. Peter nodded slowly, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “And let me guess. Sara told you why I’m working here.”

“She told me some of it. She…thought I should tell you. Neal, I –”

“Don’t.” Neal glared at him, the pain and anger cutting deep into Peter’s soul. “I’m sure the last thing you want to do is date a fucking criminal.” He stood quickly, the table shaking as his legs bumped against it, and grabbed what was left of his food.

“No, Neal, wait –” Before he could finish, Neal disappeared through the side door and into the kitchen. Peter stood and was just about to follow him when the door swung open again and Sara emerged.

“You told him.”

Peter nodded, unable to speak or meet her gaze. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he was appalled to realize there were tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. It almost seemed like it should be wrong to feel so strongly about someone he’d only known for two weeks, but he’d never met someone with whom he’d had such an instant and visceral connection. There was something very different about Neal Caffrey, something that touched Peter so deeply that every fiber of his being ached at the thought of losing him.

Then there was Neal’s assumption that Peter wouldn’t want to date him, which left him heartbroken. Neal had called himself a criminal, yet Peter – who prided himself on his accurate and well-developed gut instinct when it came to people – had never gotten that feeling from him at all. He knew there had to be more to the story, but at the moment, all he could think about was the way the smile slid from Neal’s face, the fire in his eyes, the vehemence of his words.

“Peter?”

His thoughts had taken him so far away that Peter forgot Sara was standing in front of him. He shook his head and grabbed his things from the table.

“I’m…sorry.” His voice broke, and he made his way out of the store as quickly as his aching body would carry him.

\-------------

Though he’d allowed himself to mope over the weekend, Peter was back at work on Monday morning as usual. He went through the motions, smiled in the right places, and got through every meeting without a hitch. Diana took him to lunch at her favorite café, and he managed to choke down enough of it to appease her, though she clearly knew something was wrong with him. They’d known each other for so long that it was impossible to hide anything from her.

“Look, boss,” she said as they sat in the conference room, waiting for their canine handlers to arrive for an afternoon briefing. “You know I’m not the type to nag you until you cave and tell me what’s going on. If you need anything, though – someone to listen or cheer you up or take you out to a club and drink you under the table – I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Di.” He reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Just need to work through some things.”

“Well, if you get to a point where you can’t work through them alone, give me a call.” She gave him a sly grin. “And if he’s the reason you’ve been so damn happy lately, do whatever you can to get him back.”

Peter smiled at her and shook his head. He hadn’t told her much about Neal yet, but she’d suspected he was getting to know someone, and he hadn’t denied it. Leave it to her to figure out that it was a relationship issue that was bothering him.

He managed to make it through the rest of the day and most of the next one before the façade finally started to crumble. He hadn’t seen Neal in four days, and the ache of longing came back every time he thought of the charming young man – which was way too often for his own good. He left work by three and went straight back to his apartment, slipping out of his suit and into a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt before stretching out on the sofa with a beer and a heating pad. He wrapped the pad around his thigh and knee, then settled in to watch some TV.

Though the Yankees weren’t playing until later in the evening, one of the sports channels was running an Orioles game, and he put it on to drone in the background. His thoughts weren’t on baseball, though; they were on Neal. In spite of the way it made his chest ache, he couldn’t help smiling a little as he remembered the way Neal’s eyes lit up when he talked about Monet’s _Garden at Sainte-Adresse_ or how he ran his tongue self-consciously over his lips when Peter complimented his taste in classic films. 

At some point after he stopped using the heating pad, Peter nodded off, only to be awakened by his ringing cell phone some time later. He sat up and cleared his throat before answering, hoping he didn’t sound as dejected as he felt.

“This is Peter Burke.”

“Well, I hope so, because you’re answering his phone.” _Sara_. Peter grinned in spite of himself. “So what’s going on with you this evening?”

“Beer and baseball, I think. You?”

“I’m going to rescue you from what sounds like a pretty lame evening. We’re going out tonight.”

“Sara…”

“No arguments. I’m sure you’re sulking about Neal, and you need some cheering up, so I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Peter sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Yeah, about that. I know you’re just trying to help, but I’m really not in the mood to go out, especially on a Tuesday evening.”

“Peter, I know it’s a weeknight. I’m not talking about getting drunk or clubbing. Just a quiet dinner and a chance to catch up. Your handsome face has been sorely missed at the shop, you know.”

“A quiet dinner? That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“And we don’t have to talk about Neal?”

Sara didn’t answer at first, and Peter closed his eyes. Just saying the other man’s name hurt; the last thing he wanted to do was spend the evening fending off her attempts to get him to rehash what happened.

“We don’t have to, no.” Her voice was soft and tinged with sorrow. “He misses you, Peter. He went home sick on Friday. He did work yesterday and today because he knows he’s still in his probationary period, but he’s really hurting.”

Peter took a deep, shaky breath and silently cursed the way his vision blurred. “Yeah.” He rubbed at the ache in his chest as if that would soothe it away. “So am I.”

“It just kills me to think of you sitting over there alone. Please come out with me. Let me keep you company for a while.”

It took so long for him to gather himself enough to answer that she asked if he was still there.

“Yeah, I’m here. When should I be ready?”

“Go make yourself feel better first. Shower and shave, put on something nice. The navy suit with a black button-down, maybe – no tie. I’ll come down and get you around seven.”

Peter glanced at his watch and saw that it was just after six. “Okay, that works for me.”

“Great! I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“Sara? Thanks.”

“Hey, what are friends for? Now go. Shower, shave, get dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter managed to huff out a laugh before hanging up.

He did as she said, taking a quick but soothing shower before shaving and brushing his teeth. He even put on the clothes Sara had suggested and added a bit of cologne. When he checked himself out in the mirror, he was vaguely surprised to find that he looked really good and didn’t feel half-bad. Maybe this would be just what he needed.

Since he was ready a little early, Peter used the extra time to pick up around the apartment in case Sara decided to come in and hang out after dinner. Just before seven, he heard a knock at the door and went to answer it.

And got the shock of his life.

Neal stood before him, a bottle of wine in his hand, a large soft-sided cooler slung over one shoulder, and a tentative smile on his face. 

“N-Neal. What are you doing here?”

The younger man stood in the doorway, looking positively appetizing. He wore a beautifully-tailored dark charcoal suit – something vintage, from the looks of it – over a blue dress shirt that complimented his eyes. Like Peter, he wore no tie and left his top buttons undone. 

“I’m your dinner date,” he said softly. When Peter just gaped at him, Neal tilted his head, the apprehension now clear on his face. “May I come in? Please?”

It was the _please_ that undid Peter, and he stepped aside, waving Neal in and locking the door behind him. Neal put the wine and cooler on the small table next to the door, then turned to face Peter, his eyes full of loneliness and longing and so much hope.

“Peter, I – god, I don’t even know where to start.” Neal ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even give you a chance. I just…panicked.” He looked down at his hands, nervously rubbing the palm of his left hand with his right thumb. “I’m still not even sure why I did it, but I hope that you can forgive me.” When Neal finally lifted his head again, Peter was startled by the depth of the remorse in his eyes. “Please, Peter.”

Peter nodded and reached out to give Neal’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I can, and I do.”

Neal blinked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course.” Peter shrugged, still holding on to Neal’s arm. “You got a little freaked out. I get it. I should have told you sooner to begin with.”

“Wow.” Neal forced out a relieved breath. “I, uh, don’t know what to say. Thanks. Thank you, Peter.”

Peter smiled, then cocked his head at Neal, not wanting to let the younger man dwell on the apology any longer. “So, what’s this about a dinner date?”

“Oh! Yeah, I brought dinner and wine. Are you hungry?”

Though Peter caught the double entendre – and thought Neal looked so very appetizing in that suit – he knew neither of them was in the right emotional mindset to explore something like that yet, so he took the question at face value.

“I am, actually. Haven’t had much of an appetite the last few days, but I do now.”

Neal grinned at him, just a hint of mischief around the edges, and gestured to Peter’s dining room table. “May I?”

“Please.” Curious, Peter followed Neal out to the table and watched as the younger man started unpacking the contents of the cooler. He pulled out some pot holders and put them aside, then lifted out two baking dishes in soft-sided carriers and a large cloth bundle. The bundle held plates, cloth napkins, and various utensils, and Neal made quick work of setting the table. He then motioned for Peter to sit down and took two wine glasses from a pocket on the side of the cooler before grabbing a corkscrew from the bundle of utensils and opening the bottle of Mondavi Cabernet he’d brought.

Before long, Peter’s plate was covered with what Neal said was beef tenderloin with a red wine mushroom sauce, roasted new potatoes, and creamed spinach. He just stared, speechless, as Neal finally took the seat across the table from him.

“What?” Neal looked pretty pleased with himself. “Sara said you were a meat and potatoes kind of guy, so that’s what I made.”

“Wait.” Peter was now completely astounded. “You _made_ this? As in cooked it?”

“I did.” Neal reached across the table and put a hand on top of Peter’s. “For you.” He looked expectantly at Peter, who watched him for a long moment before cutting into the steak and taking a bite. It was cooked to medium and practically melted in his mouth, and he groaned in appreciation before taking another bite, followed by some potatoes and spinach. Though Neal cut into his own beef, he was closely watching Peter’s reaction.

“Wow. This. This is amazing.” Peter fixed Neal with a speculative look. “You really did all of this yourself?”

“Yeah,” Neal said before popping a bite of beef into his mouth. “It’s something I like to do for people I…care about.” He gave Peter a shy smile before going back to eating, and Peter managed to school his expression, though the comment did all sorts of wonderful things to his insides.

They ate in silence for a while, both of them savoring the meal and the companionship. Peter felt better than he had in days, though he couldn't tell if the warmth spreading through him was more from the wine or the fact that he was with Neal. Several times, he found his gaze drifting up to the man across the table, only to find that those beautiful eyes were fixed on him and filled with something that was definitely attraction – and maybe a little lust. 

"Is the wine okay?" Neal finally asked, if only to distract them both from whatever was happening between them. "Sara said you were more of a beer guy, but –"

"Beer wouldn't have done this justice," Peter broke in, his lips quirking up a little as Neal tried not to blush at the compliment. "The wine is perfect, and so is the food. Have you ever thought of opening a restaurant?"

"Oh, god no." Neal looked vaguely horrified at the prospect. "To me, cooking is more like a hobby - another artistic medium, I guess. I paint, I sketch, I cook. It's usually pretty cathartic for me, and I like knowing what's going into the food I'm eating."

"Makes sense," Peter said with a shrug. "In any case, thank you for this. The evening's already going better than I thought it would."

Neal raised his eyebrows and tried to hide a smirk. "Really? Not in the mood for dinner with Sara?" He leaned over the table to refill Peter's wine glass, and their eyes met over the bottle. Peter was suddenly struck with an intense urge to kiss the younger man, and he hoped the blush working its way up his neck wasn’t as visible as it felt.

"I'd mostly convinced myself that it might not be too bad," he admitted as he sipped at the wine. "But I really wasn't in the mood to go anywhere. Figured I'd spend the evening watching the Yankees through the bottom of a beer bottle.”

Neal nodded but said nothing, his eyes sliding slowly down to his plate as he pushed around the last bites with his fork. It took Peter’s brain a moment to catch up with the foot in his mouth, and he mentally cringed, scrambling to do damage control.

“And then a wonderful man showed up at my door with dinner and wine.” He took a deep breath, and his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Now I can’t even remember who’s playing tonight, and I don’t know if it’s because of the wine or the person who brought it.” Even as he said it, he cringed inside, worried that it sounded like he was trying way too hard. To his surprise, Neal leaned in toward him, eyes widening slightly, one corner of his mouth curving upward.

“Has anyone ever told you how sweet you are?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up and he fought the instinctual urge to laugh or brush off the comment. A close look at Neal’s eyes told him that, though he looked at least as buzzed as Peter felt, the younger man wasn’t teasing him. There was also a hint of vulnerability there, as though Neal was worried about those very things – being laughed at or dismissed. Peter didn’t know what in the world this beautiful man saw in someone like him, but he wasn’t about to do anything to ruin it. 

“No, I think you’re the first…and thank you.”

“It’s the truth,” Neal said softly, still grinning. “And I don’t know about being the first, but I’m glad I’m the one who gets to tell you today.”

“So am I.” Peter held his gaze for a moment before looking away, now sure he was visibly blushing.

They’d finished eating by then, and Peter started gathering the dishes, hoping it would be enough of a distraction to keep him from throwing himself at the man across the table. Neal, apparently in a similar mindset, excused himself to the bathroom, and Peter pointed it out down the hall.

By the time Neal returned, Peter had the dishes soaking in the sink. He took his own turn in the bathroom, getting rid of some wine, checking his teeth, using some mouthwash – likely the same things Neal did. When he returned to the kitchen, he found Neal with his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, hands plunged into the soapy water.

“Hey, you cooked, I’ll clean.” Peter said as he took off his own jacket and started working on his sleeves.

“Ah, there’s not really much here.” Neal gestured to the other bowl of the sink, where the washed dishes were waiting. “You can rinse if you want.” 

“I think I can handle that.” Peter walked up to stand beside Neal, so close that they were nearly touching, and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. Rinsing the dishes at least kept them occupied. “So, do you do this for all of your first dates?”

Neal’s hands stilled in the water. “I – no. I, uh, don’t really date much.”

The confession stunned Peter, but he stopped himself from saying so out loud. There were still a lot of things about Neal that he didn’t know, and the last thing he wanted to do was jam his foot so far into his mouth that he choked on it.

“Then I’m honored,” he said, giving Neal a shy smile before going back to rinsing. “And if it matters, I don’t date much either.”

“Really?” Neal finished the last of the silverware, dropping it into the sink in front of Peter. “Should I be worried?”

“No! I just –” Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide, only to find Neal giving him one of the most blinding grins he’d ever seen. “Oh, you _bastard_.”

“Gotcha.” Neal hip-checked him, and as the last of the soapy water drained out of the sink, he dipped his fingertips in it and flicked some of the suds at Peter. Before he even realized he was doing it, Peter ran his own wet fingertips down over Neal’s jaw. “Ah, that’s cold!”

Peter turned to face Neal, then reached for a towel to dry his hands, his eyes never leaving the younger man’s. He passed the towel to Neal, and then before he could lose his alcohol-fueled nerve, he cupped Neal’s face in his hands and leaned in to kiss him.

To his credit – and to Peter's great relief – not only was Neal not caught off-guard by the kiss, but he quickly responded in kind. His lips parted just enough to be a bit of a goad, and he dropped the towel, both of his hands going to Peter's hips. Peter leaned into him, thrilled not just by the younger man's eagerness, but by being with another man in a way he hadn't been in years.

He knew, though, that he should take it easy with Neal. They were only a few weeks into their relationship – technically this was just their first real date – and Neal still seemed fragile at times, both emotionally and physically. He'd been fine during and after dinner, but the wine might have had something to do with that. It definitely had something to do with the newest development.

Peter gave himself over to the kiss for a little longer, his tongue just barely teasing Neal's, before reluctantly pulling away. Neal let out a frustrated groan and tried to bring him back in, but Peter shook his head.

“Let's not rush things,” he said, a little startled by the gravelly tone of his voice. His thumbs stroked Neal's cheekbones, and the younger man closed his eyes. “We've got all the time in the world.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over one of Neal's eyelids, then the other. Neal sighed and opened his eyes, and it was all Peter could do not to drown in that sea of blue. 

“I know. I just…it’s been a long time, Peter.” Neal's arms wrapped around his waist, and Peter allowed himself to be pulled into a loose embrace.

“It has been for me, too. And I probably shouldn't say this so early on, but I do want more with you. I'd just like this to be…” He trailed off and shrugged, not sure how to say what he wanted to say without putting way too much of himself out there.

He'd had a few relationships over the years – one fairly serious, the others not. He'd never felt about any of them the way he felt about Neal, and very deep down, there was a part of him that was terrified he'd lose this beautiful young man. It had nearly happened once already, and he still didn't know the whole story behind that one.

Neal leaned back far enough to look into Peter's eyes. “More than just dinner and a quick, awkward fuck for dessert?” This time, there was no doubt that he was teasing, and Peter couldn't help chuckling.

“Yeah, something like that. And since it's been a while, I'll give you quick, but what makes you think it would be awkward?”

“Prove me wrong.” Neal gave him a smile that somehow managed to be both sweet and devilish. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the living room, leaving Peter standing next to the sink with his mouth hanging wide open.

When he finally gathered his wits enough to follow, Peter found Neal sitting on the sofa, looking a little innocent and more than a little appetizing. Neal patted the cushion next to him, and after taking a deep breath to steel himself, Peter sat down beside him.

“Look, Neal, I –”

“No, don’t.” Neal cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not one for making excuses, but the wine…I was, um, sick for a while, and I can’t handle it as well as I could before.”

Concerned, if also a little relieved, Peter turned so he could get a better look at Neal’s face. “It’s fine – and my tolerance isn’t very high anymore either.” He gestured to his leg and shrugged. “‘Dessert’ sounds very tempting, and I want that with you. Really, _really_ want that with you.” Peter arched his eyebrows for emphasis, and Neal laughed. “But I’m not that easy, and I don’t think you are either.”

Neal shook his head, still chuckling. “No, not usually, and I appreciate that you think that. People used to look at me and think just the opposite.” He was still smiling, but he rolled his eyes and looked away self-consciously.

Though Peter was admittedly curious, he could sense that Neal didn't want to elaborate, so he diverted the attention to himself for the time being. “They're apparently pretty shallow people. For whatever it's worth, they look at me and think I'm straight. I'm not sure which is worse.”

Neal just looked at him for a moment, the gratitude evident in his eyes. “I get that one a lot, too. I guess I should've taken up ballet instead of painting.”

Peter laughed and again raised his eyebrows. “Okay, now you're not playing fair. Giving me a mental image of you in a skintight leotard is starting to make me hungry for dessert again.” He leaned in and kissed the laughter from Neal's lips, as effervescent as the wine, heady and sweet. It lasted longer this time, their tongues exploring a little more tentatively than if they'd been sober, but neither of them made a move to take things any further. Neal's warm hand rested on Peter's thigh; Peter's fingers were tangled in the mass of wavy hair he'd so admired that first day at the coffee shop. He pulled back only when the arousal that had pooled hot and heavy in his belly started to move lower, and Neal let him go without a fight, though he sucked on Peter's upper lip as they parted.

“ _Christ_ ,” Peter breathed, resting his forehead against Neal's.

“Mmm. Yeah, that was pretty divine,” Neal teased, leaning back and giving him a wink. They sat back against the sofa, both needing to catch their breath. Neal's fingers slipped through Peter's, and Peter let out a contented hum. In spite of the wine, he was starting to feel the ache in his leg again. When he reached down to rub at the muscles, he could feel Neal's eyes on him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I will be.” He dug his thumb into the muscles above his knee. “It's been giving me a little trouble today, but not much more than usual.” He stretched the leg out in front of him and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

“Will – will you tell me about it sometime?”

“Hmm?” He sat up and looked over at Neal, who nodded toward his leg. “Oh, yeah. I'll tell you about it now if you want.” When Neal's eyes widened, Peter shrugged. “It's not the most pleasant after-dinner conversation topic, but I knew you'd ask about it sometime, and I'm okay talking about it.” At Neal's doubtful head tilt, Peter smiled. “I promise I won't start crying or have a flashback or any other first date no-nos.”

Neal seemed to consider for a moment, then sat up and turned to face him, one leg on the sofa. “Okay, let's hear it.”

Peter took a cleansing breath and angled himself so he could face Neal but still keep his leg stretched out. He'd mentioned to Neal during their last conversation at Starbucks that he’d been shot, but he had a vague suspicion that Neal, so focused on the fact that he'd been a cop, hadn't processed that last bit of information.

“Do you remember the Keyes School shootings a few years back?”

Neal opened his mouth to reply, then shut it abruptly. He glanced away, his eyes losing focus, and Peter knew he was thinking back through everything he’d seen about the incident. It was something Peter would never need to do. He’d lived it.

“Oh,” Neal whispered, looking back with a mix of awe and horror. “Oh my god, Peter. That – wow.” He shook his head slowly. “That was _you_?”

“That was me.” When a shudder ran through Neal’s body, Peter wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close. Neal rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, and they lay that way as nearly a minute passed in silence. 

“I cried for you,” Neal finally said, and he shivered again.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Peter ran his fingers up and down Neal’s arm, a little thrown by the younger man’s reaction.

“I cried for you. When they released the school security footage, I remember watching it and just…breaking down. Seeing you getting those kids to safety, and then when the guy came into the hallway and you tried to take him down before he could get to the kids, and he shot you. Oh, god. And after he left, you kept trying to get up to go back to the kids, but your leg wouldn’t support you. You just kept trying and trying, and my heart hurt for you. The footage from the parking lot, too. God, Peter.” He clung to Peter’s arms, trying to catch his breath after the rush of words.

It surprised Peter how much Neal remembered about the incident, though they’d aired the footage so many times in the week it was released that Peter was probably the only one in the city who hadn’t seen it. Thinking of Neal crying for him back then was almost enough to make him emotional, but there was a small part of him that was also warmed by the thought. Long before they’d met, they’d already had a connection, in a small way.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers still stroking Neal’s arm. “That day changed my life in so many ways.”

Neal leaned up and planted a light kiss on his jaw. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” He settled back in against Peter’s shoulder, and though he hadn’t come right out and asked, there was a curiosity in his voice that made Peter think he still wanted to hear the story.

Peter took a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his mind drift back to that time. Right after it happened, he couldn’t even think about it without having a panic attack. It had taken months of counseling and years of soul-searching to get him to where he was now – grateful that he’d survived, accepting of the fact that some hadn’t, and at peace with the knowledge that he’d done everything he could.

“Well,” he started, his voice soft and even, “My partner, Diana, was in court that day, so I was out by myself, wrapping up loose ends for a couple of cases we’d just closed. I went into that deli around the corner from the school to get lunch, and as I’m waiting in line, my phone goes off with an alert about a confirmed gunman at the school.

“So, I grabbed the portable radio from my car, switched over to the ops channel, and ran down to the school, which was already pretty chaotic. There were kids everywhere – most of them were in shock, some were crying – and the teachers and aides were trying to keep them together and get them away from the building.” He stopped to take a few deep breaths, and one of Neal’s hands snuck up to his chest, scratching lightly through the dress shirt.

“You okay doing this?”

“Yeah, if you still want to hear it. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve made my peace with what happened.” When Neal nodded, Peter smiled and brushed his lips over the younger man’s forehead. “Okay, uh, I heard the dispatcher say that the school security officer was injured, and that he’d said the shooter was headed toward the west end of the building, so that’s where I went.

“The side door was open, and there were a couple of teachers leading kids out from the chorus room down the hall. I yelled for them to get back inside and take cover because there wasn’t enough time to get everyone out, but they were panicking, and only a few went back. So I’m trying to get them out of there, and this girl behind me screams. When I turned around, there he was, and he just opened fire. I pulled my weapon and returned fire - hit him in the shoulder, and he took off running.”

Peter stopped to calm his breathing again, a technique he’d learned in therapy. Though the story no longer made him break down, it was still a tough one to tell. He took great comfort in the warmth of Neal’s body against his, the man’s fingers still meandering over his chest. He wanted Neal to know him, and what happened that day was a huge part of his recent past.

“I tried to turn around to see if any kids were hit, and I just…went down. My knee gave out. I don’t even think I’d realized I was hit until then because of the adrenaline. There were kids bleeding, and I was afraid he’d come back, so I was trying to get them out of there. But I – I couldn’t stand up, and I kept slipping in the blood on the floor. I called for help on the portable, and there was a boy who was hit in the neck, and I kept trying to put pressure on it, but…” Peter closed his eyes against the sudden rush of memories. _Jesus._

“Peter, hey. You don’t have to do this.” Neal brought his fingers to Peter’s lips, but Peter just smiled against them. He reached up and pressed Neal’s fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.

“I’m fine. It’s just – it’s only been a few years. Some parts of it are still pretty vivid.” When he opened his eyes, Neal was peering up at him, clearly concerned. “Really, I’m okay.”

“How?” Neal sat up, eyes searching his face. “How do you ever overcome something like that?”

“Physically, I’m still working on it. Surgery, PT, and I’m probably in better shape now than I was before I was shot. Mentally, I went for counseling. Lots of counseling. I thought I could just man up and work through it on my own, but that didn’t happen.” He sighed, thinking back to the endless nightmares, the mood swings, the survivor’s guilt, constantly being sick to his stomach. His physical therapist had finally convinced him to get some help by pointing out to him that the emotional symptoms were having a huge effect on his physical recovery.

“I’m so sorry,” Neal said softly, his expression a mixture of compassion and shock. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Peter inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled through barely-parted lips, his mind tracing the path of the air as he grounded himself. “I would have told you sooner or later anyway.” He gave Neal a lopsided grin. “Not exactly the best first date story, huh?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, I appreciate knowing how you were injured. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered about it. I just – my heart hurts for you.” 

Peter rubbed gently at Neal’s chest with his fingertips. “Right here?”

“Right there.” Neal nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

Peter leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “We need to lighten things up here. What do you want to do for the rest of the evening?”

Finally seeming to be recovering from Peter’s revelations, Neal responded with a kiss of his own. “Well, we could always go with the old standby – making out while we pretend to watch a movie. Or the baseball game you mentioned earlier.”

“Really? You’d watch the Yankees game with me?”

Neal leaned in close, lips ghosting over the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Of course I would.” He moved to the other side, his breath tickling Peter’s clean-shaven jaw. “But I don’t know how much – ” He shifted up to Peter’s ear, and his whisper sent a shiver down the older man’s spine. “ – we’ll actually see.”

Peter let out a soft moan and shifted to try to catch Neal’s lips with his own, but Neal dodged him easily.

“Peter…”

“Hmm.” Peter tried to lean in again.

“Peter. Find the game.” This time, Peter managed to catch him, and Neal’s laughter felt beautiful against his lips, in his mouth. It was exhilarating, it was all Peter wanted…and then Neal ducked away again. Peter started to lunge for him, but a sharp twinge in his knee made him cry out in pain before he could swallow it back. Neal froze, eyes wide, hand hovering over the remote on the end table.

“Shit,” Peter muttered under his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip, trying to breathe through the pain as he rubbed at the muscles with both hands.

“Peter? What can I do?” Neal’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Peter forced himself to open his eyes. He was having a hard time focusing through the pain and the buzz, but he found it reassuring that Neal reacted so quickly with an offer to help, rather than being scared or uncomfortable.

“Mmm. Just moved the wrong way. Give me a few minutes.” He tried to give Neal a smile, but it felt more like a grimace, and Neal shook his head.

“Can you lay back?” When Peter nodded, Neal helped him maneuver so that he was leaning back at the corner of the sofa and slipped a throw pillow under his knee. “Do you have any painkillers that aren’t narcotics? Something you can take after having wine?”

“Ibuprofen. On the kitchen counter beside the fridge.” Peter continued to knead at the muscles in his leg as Neal disappeared. He returned a minute later with the ibuprofen and a glass of water, then helped Peter take a couple of the pills.

“Neal, I'm sorry. I – it’s not usually this bad, I swear.” Peter glanced away, suddenly self-conscious.

“You don't need to apologize, and I've seen you walk, so I know you usually get around pretty well. Do you have anything else you use? A heating pad or muscle rub or something?”

“I used the heating pad this afternoon. Think I'll hold off for now and see how I feel once the pills kick in.” He gave Neal a grateful look. “You're really good at this, you know.”

“Hey, you didn't think you were going to scare me away that easily, did you?” Neal grinned and handed him the remote. “Now find the game, and then we'll see what happens from there.”

After tuning the TV to the game, which was just in the top of the second inning, they spent the next couple of hours making out and talking. At first, Neal sat in behind Peter and let Peter lay back against his leg – which worked perfectly for the talking, but not so well for making out.

Peter was often a man of few words, but he found it easy to open up with Neal, and the feeling was definitely mutual. They kept the conversation light and laughed enough to make them forget about the horrors of Peter’s earlier story.

When the pain in Peter’s leg eased enough, he sat up and leaned in to give Neal a deep, languorous kiss. One of Neal’s hands went around Peter’s back, holding him there, and Peter allowed himself to surrender. It felt soothing and right, and it made him forget about the dull ache in his leg, the old memories, even the baseball game.

They’d already established that they wouldn’t be getting too carried away, and with that pressure gone, they were able to relax and just enjoy each other. The slickness of Neal’s lips, their tongues dancing around each other, Neal’s warm hands on his back and chest, breath hot against his cheek – Peter got lost in all of it. He couldn't remember ever being with someone who made him feel as cherished as Neal did, and he tried to forget about the fact that their evening together eventually had to come to an end.

They'd been sitting together in silence after the make-out session ended, both catching their breath and simply enjoying the feeling of being together, when Neal finally spoke. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we just stay like this?”

“Mmm.” Peter nuzzled his ear and smiled. “I think we both have to work tomorrow.”

“Details.” Neal sighed and squeezed Peter's fingers in his own. “Will I see you for lunch?”

“Of course, and Thursday, too. I'm not sure about Friday yet.”

“Can I…” Neal hesitated a moment, then shifted away far enough to look into Peter's eyes. “Do you, um, have any plans for Friday night? There's this thing I have to attend, and I thought maybe if you were free…” He trailed off and gave Peter a self-conscious shrug, and Peter’s heart sank. He was expected to attend the event on Friday and had even promised El Mitchell that he’d be there, so there was no possible way to back out. He had a business to run, and he couldn’t risk losing any clients, in spite of the fact that he’d much rather spend the evening with the beautiful man beside him.

“I wish I could, but we’re doing security for a pretty important event on Friday, and I really need to be there. I’m free all weekend, though.”

Neal grinned, looking a little relieved that he’d finally gotten the question out of the way. Peter also suspected it had something to do with the fact that, though Peter turned him down, he had a legitimate reason for doing so and wasn’t just giving him the brush off.

“I’m free, too. If you’re up for it, how about Saturday afternoon?”

They talked it over for a few minutes, and Peter agreed to let Neal surprise him with a Saturday outing. It was only then that they realized how late it had gotten, and since Neal had to be at work the following morning, they decided to wrap things up. After helping Neal pack the dishes back into the cooler bag, Peter helped him into his jacket and walked him slowly to the door. 

“You’re sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”

“Not this time,” Neal said reluctantly. “I’d probably invite you in, and…”

“Yeah.” Peter took Neal’s hands in his own. “Thank you again for all of this. This whole evening has been amazing.” He glanced down at his feet, and Neal chuckled.

“And you don’t want it to end either.”

“Is it that obvious?” Peter leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “No, I don’t, but I know it has to. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.”

Neal nodded and squeezed Peter’s fingers. “Lunch. Tomorrow.”

“Can I walk you out?”

“I’ll be fine.” Neal worked one of his hands free and opened the door. “Thank you, Peter. This was the best day I’ve had in…well, a very long time.”

“Me, too.” Peter gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek and smiled. “G’night, Neal.”

“Goodnight, Peter. See you tomorrow.” Neal slipped out the door and headed down the hallway. Peter held his breath, waiting to see if Neal would turn back for one last look – and vaguely realizing how silly he was being by doing so. But sure enough, Neal glanced back over his shoulder and waved before he disappeared, and it almost made Peter feel a little giddy.

As he went back inside and closed the door, it dawned on Peter once again that he’d never felt this way about anyone before. Even the most serious of his previous relationships hadn’t been anything like this. He was falling hard for Neal Caffrey, and to his surprise, he wasn’t afraid. A beautiful young man who was, of all things, a barista at a coffee shop was breaking down the walls he’d built around his heart after the tragedy that changed his life forever.

And instead of being terrified by that, Peter was feeling something quite the opposite. He was elated, and he never wanted it to end. 

\-------------

Peter arrived at the Ellington Mansion an hour before the event was scheduled to start, sharply dressed in a black tux and bowtie, and carrying his cane just in case he needed it. He wanted to be there to help oversee the event himself, but he had enough confidence in his team to let them get set up on their own, and he also wanted Elizabeth Mitchell to see that they were perfectly capable of handling things without his supervision. By the time he got there, all of them were in place and were giving off such a competent vibe that he couldn't help feeling immensely proud of each and every one.

“Peter!” El approached him as soon as he entered, looking radiant and pleased. “Welcome to the Ellington Mansion.” She stood beside him and rested a hand on his forearm. “I'm really impressed with your team. They've all been very friendly with Ms. Ellington and her staff, but they're also very professional. Ms. Ellington – June – thinks so, too.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Peter said with a smile. He gazed around the marble entryway and tried not to look too awestruck. “This place is something else.”

“It's beautiful, isn't it? And you haven't even seen the rest of it yet. Let's go find June, and we'll give you a quick tour.”

“I'd love to.” Peter offered his arm, and El linked hers through it. It didn't take them long to find the mansion's owner, June Ellington, and Peter took an immediate liking to her. She was elegant and sharp, and he got the feeling that she had secrets even older than him. She gave him a tour of the first floor, then introduced him to the housekeeper and the caterer, as well as the commission officials who had arrived early to help with setup.

The last person she took him to meet was a short bald man with glasses and a suspicious glare, who she introduced quite simply as ‘Mozzie,’ saying he was as much her assistant as her butler, and that she never hosted an event without him in attendance. When Peter offered his hand, Mozzie flat-out refused to shake it, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Peter a thorough once-over.

“Thormond Security, is it? Thor’s protection? That’s rather pretentious.”

Peter shook off the comment and threw his shoulders back, giving the peculiar man a tight smile that was equal parts patience and fortitude. “I prefer to think of it as confidence. Outside of that, I’ll let my team’s work speak for itself.”

Mozzie’s chin went up. “‘Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge.’”

Peter glanced at El and June, both of whom seemed to be watching intently, before letting his smile grow. “Darwin was referring specifically to ignorance with regard to scientific knowledge, not ignorance in general. And I prefer, ‘If you have no confidence in self, you are twice defeated in the race of life. With confidence, you have won even before you have started.”

“Cicero,” Mozzie said with an approving nod. “Wise choice.” His eyes came to rest briefly on Peter’s cane, and he looked like he wanted to comment on it, but he then turned to June instead. “It’s almost time. Should I go up and see if your date’s ready?”

June gave him a chiding look but nodded. “Please do. Thank you, Mozzie.”

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and left. As June led the way back out toward the gallery room, El dropped back just a bit, taking Peter with her. “If it matters, I think you won,” she said in a low whisper. “Yours is definitely bigger.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and El winked and patted him on the arm. He was about to comment on the strangeness of the encounter with June’s assistant when he heard someone calling his name from the entry. He looked up and was stunned to see Sara Ellis heading his way.

“Sara, what are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” Sara rolled her eyes before pulling him into a quick hug. “June is one of my best clients, and a good friend.” She turned to June and briefly clasped the older woman’s hands in her own before gesturing at the walls. “Everything here is insured by me, so if several dozen people we don’t know very well are spending the evening here, I’m definitely going to be here.”

“I don’t blame you,” Peter said with a smile, his thoughts drifting as Sara introduced herself to El Mitchell. He’d known that Sara kept her insurance licenses up-to-date, though she’d given up her position at Sterling Bosch when they wouldn’t let her join their recovery division, presumably because it was too dangerous. She’d spent a few years as an independent agent before the divorce that left her with, among other things, a Starbucks and an apartment building, but Peter had never asked if she’d retained any of her old clients.

“So, Peter.” Sara’s hand on his sleeve brought him back into the conversation – just in time for her next comment to knock him on his ass. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Wha – I – who?” Peter was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t seem to close it as he looked from Sara to El to June and back again.

“Neal. Did he come down yet?”

“I – I don’t – Neal?”

“Peter, seriously?” She raised her eyebrows as if to say that it should have been obvious to him, but Peter just shook his head slowly.

“Neal?” June gave Sara a puzzled look. “He should be down any moment, but…” She trailed off and looked to Peter, eyes wide. “Oh! You – you’re _that_ Peter!”

“Wait,” Sara said, her eyes narrowing, “you honestly didn’t know Neal lives here?”

“Neal lives here?” Peter gaped at her. “Neal _Caffrey_?” He almost added, _my Neal?_ , but managed to bite back the words before they emerged. He looked to June, who nodded.

“He does. He’s accompanying me for the evening.”

“Peter?” Sara put a hand on his arm. “You didn’t tell him your company was working this event?”

“I – I didn’t, no.” Peter felt somewhat numb, and though he’d just been carrying his cane without using it, he suddenly needed to lean on it to steady himself. 

“Oh, there he is,” Sara said, pointing over Peter’s shoulder. He turned to look, and what he saw took his breath away.

Neal was standing at the bottom of the stairs beside Mozzie, and he looked absolutely stunning. Like Peter, he was dressed in a tux and black bowtie, and his hair was slicked back just enough to keep it from being unruly. Peter didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so gorgeous, and as crazy as it seemed to him, the look on Neal’s face made it clear that he was having similar thoughts about Peter. 

A gentle hand landed on his back, and El leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Breathe, Peter.”

Peter managed to exhale through pursed lips without it sounding too obvious, and he smiled as Neal approached. Though the younger man was playing it cool, he could tell that Neal was just as shocked as he was. 

“Neal, there you are,” June said, holding out a hand to him. He took it and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Here I am. I’d planned to come down a little earlier, but it’s been a long time since I needed to tie a bowtie.” He turned to Sara and smiled, giving her a quick once-over. “Hello, Sara. You clean up well – I mean, you’re looking well.”

“Oh, shut up, Caffrey,” she teased, giving his arm a playful swat. “You and your monkey suit don’t really have much room to talk.”

Neal smirked at her before moving on to El. “And you – now I have a name to put with the face. You must be the Elizabeth that June’s been telling me about.”

“I am,” El said, offering her hand. “Elizabeth Mitchell. I certainly remember you from the day I had my first meeting with Peter, but I had no idea you lived here.”

Neal nodded in the direction of the stairs. “I’m in the fourth floor apartment.” He looked gratefully at June. “But only because June is…an angel. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have anything right now.” He swallowed hard, but when his gaze moved to Peter, a fond smile spread across his face. “Peter. You’re the last person I’d expect to attend an event like this, but it’s really good to see you.” 

“You, too,” Peter said softly. There was so much more he wanted to add, but needing to remain professional, he went with something safe. “And I only got an invite because I’m on the clock.”

“Will you be mingling or supervising?” June asked with a knowing look.

“A little of both, I think. I wanted to be here in case Elizabeth had any questions or concerns, but I trust my team enough to let them do their thing without me hovering around them.” Though he was talking to everyone, he continued to stare at Neal. He couldn’t help himself. It was all he could do to keep his mind from straying to thoughts of getting Neal out of that tux.

June whispered something in Neal’s ear, and he nodded and glanced around the room. Without warning, he pulled Peter to him for a brief hug. “You look amazing,” he murmured.

“So do you.” Peter reluctantly let him go but couldn’t help grinning. Everyone around him was doing the same, and June looked particularly proud of herself.

They chatted for a few moments until the guests started to arrive, though Peter was too distracted by Neal’s presence to participate. As soon as the first few people made their way inside, Neal and June broke off from the group to greet them. Elizabeth went off to check in with the caterer, and soon after, Sara saw someone she knew and excused herself to go talk to him, leaving Peter by himself.

True to his word, he made a brief circuit of the downstairs, wordlessly checking in with each member of his team before getting a glass of seltzer water and starting to work the crowd. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed, but he’d attended enough NYPD functions and ceremonies that he knew what was expected of him and easily slipped into the role. He caught Neal’s eye a few times but kept his distance, well aware of the fact that both of them were there in a professional capacity of sorts. Neal seemed to be comfortable with his own role, chatting and laughing as he and June made the rounds.

Peter made his way outside to check in with the rest of his team, then stopped for a moment, breathing deeply and letting the evening air clear his head. He was still feeling a little shaken by the fact that Neal lived in the Ellington Mansion, and he knew there was probably a complex story behind the arrangement, but he decided not to push Neal to tell him about it. He’d let the younger man open up when he was ready.

His thoughts drifted to Sara’s question from earlier in the evening. _Where’s your boyfriend?_ It had just been a casual remark to her, but it made Peter’s chest ache in such a good way. He and Neal hadn’t yet used the term, though it was clear they were headed in that direction, even after the minor setback they’d had a week ago.

When he went back inside, Peter immediately noticed that the crowd in the gallery had thinned, and that most of the ones who remained seemed to be touring the room with Mozzie as their guide. The actual committee members, as it turned out, had migrated into the parlor with Neal and June for what seemed to be some sort of presentation.

After doing another walk-through, Peter stood just outside the parlor doorway and listened. They’d opened the floor to questions by then, and June was answering with the same charm she’d shown to Peter, while Neal stood nearby. Though he was still smiling, Peter knew Neal well enough to notice the cracks in his social mask. His mind flashed back to the fragile young man he’d first seen at the coffee shop, but just as he started to feel the first threads of concern working their way into his mind, Neal caught his eye from across the room. He gave Peter a small smile and a wink, and Peter grinned back in spite of himself.

The event lasted for nearly two more hours before people started leaving. Peter had made several more circuits, stopping to check in with Diana and with Clinton Jones, a decorated Navy veteran and his head of security. Everything had gone smoothly, and Elizabeth Mitchell had already pulled Peter aside to let him know that she wanted to meet with him early the following week about moving all of her event security needs to Thormond. 

By the time Sara gave him a goodbye hug, most of the guests had gone, with the exception of two haughty-looking gentlemen who were having a lively – but friendly – discussion with Mozzie. Peter met with Diana and Jones to let them know he was done for the evening, then went in search of Neal. Though they’d seen each other in passing a few times, and Neal once even slid a hand across his back on his way by, Peter had lost track of him after returning from his last walk-through. 

He found June in one corner of the ornate dining room, chatting with El about the caterers, who were just finishing their clean-up. When they’d finished, June approached and smiled.

“I’ll bet you’re looking for Neal.” Peter nodded, and June took him gently by the arm. “Come sit with me for a few minutes, would you, please?”

“Of course.”

She led him out through the gallery and into the library. He’d been there during his tour and a few times while making his rounds, but he still couldn’t help pausing to take in the grandeur of the room before sitting in the wingback chair next to the one June had taken, leaning his cane against the inside of one thigh. 

“I sent Neal upstairs a short while ago,” she said without preamble. “His health has been improving lately – especially since he met you, Peter – but he still tires easily sometimes. Having so many people around and having to keep up a strong front for them wore him out, I’m afraid.” She reached out to touch Peter’s forearm and gave him a cordial smile. “He’d like to see you, though, when you’re through with your work.”

“I’m done for the night,” Peter said, returning her smile. “My team will do a thorough walk-through after the caterers leave, and I’ve left them in good hands.” Peter glanced away, resting his palms on his thighs. When his eyes returned to her, June was looking at him expectantly. “May I ask, uh…how in the world did Neal end up living here?”

June pursed her lips and considered for a moment before answering. “Not all of it is my story to tell. And please don’t ask Neal to explain everything to you tonight. He’s getting better by the day, but it’s still very difficult for him to think about that time in his life. When he’s ready emotionally and when he thinks it’s safe to do so, he’ll tell you.”

Peter nodded and expected that to be the end of the conversation, but June’s statement jarred something in his memory, something Sara had told him about Neal.

_He broke into the home of a friend of mine and was caught stealing some very valuable jewelry._

“Wait, did he try to steal something from you?” When June’s sculpted brows shot up, Peter held up a placating hand. “Sara just mentioned something in passing one time. She said Neal needed to know that I work in law enforcement and used to be a detective.”

June took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly before fixing him with a matter-of-fact look. “He did, yes. He broke in, and Mozzie caught him trying to take some of my heirloom jewelry. He didn’t look anything like the Neal you know – he was exhausted and starving, and I would have mistaken him for a homeless person had I seen him on the street.”

She paused, and Peter felt like he should say something, but he could only stare at her, his lips pressed tightly together.

“When the police arrived and began to take him into custody, Neal collapsed. I told them I’d decided not to press charges, and that we needed to get him some medical attention instead. I stayed with him at the hospital, and he told me his story.” She shook her head, her face clouding with the memory of that day. “I felt compelled to do something for him, so I offered him a place to stay and recover, and when he was finally feeling up to working again, I asked Sara if she could fit him in at the coffee shop. I knew he wasn’t up to doing anything too terribly stressful – he’s still not.” She allowed a wistful smile. “Needless to say, he found a home here. He’ll be staying as long as he feels it’s necessary, and I’m making sure he gets whatever support he needs.” 

Peter nodded and ran a hand over his mouth, still not sure what to say. “Thank you,” he finally managed, his mind reeling.

June must have read the concern in his expression, because she leaned over and covered his hand with hers. “Neal is truly a good man, Peter. He simply made a horrible mistake in a very desperate situation. Please don’t let that one action define him in your eyes.”

“I won’t,” Peter replied immediately, a little surprised by the softness of his own voice. “I never believed for a minute that he was a criminal.”

June squeezed his hand and smiled. “In that case, I think I’m going to say goodnight. Neal’s expecting you upstairs.” She stood, and Peter followed, parting ways with her as they reached the stairs. He slipped into the bathroom to freshen up, then made his way up the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the door.

Neal answered almost immediately, opening the door and offering Peter a grateful smile. “Hey, Peter. Come on in.” His bowtie, jacket, and shoes were gone, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone.

As soon as Peter was inside and the door was closed, Neal pulled him into a fierce hug. It caught Peter off-guard, and only the cane kept him from stumbling. Without pulling out of Neal’s grasp, he reached behind him to lean it against the door, then wrapped his arms around the younger man.

“Neal? You okay?”

“I am now,” Neal whispered, and Peter allowed himself to relax into the embrace. After having to spend the evening so close to Neal while keeping a professional distance, it was exactly what he needed. He let it go on for as long as Neal wanted, and when the younger man started to pull away, Peter took his face in both hands and kissed him.

“Mmm.” Neal smiled, then leaned in for another kiss. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“So did I. God, you have no idea.” Peter was aware that he sounded a little desperate, and he took a few steadying breaths as Neal led him to the sofa.

“Can I get you anything? Water, juice, wine? Something a little stronger?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” He looked over his shoulder at Neal, who was regarding him with an expression that was unreadable even to someone in Peter’s line of work.

“I, uh – I’m just going with water. Sure that’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter took a moment to look around the apartment, and he suspected that most of its contents belonged to June. Neal sat down beside him, carefully passing him one of the glasses of ice water with a hand that looked like it might have been trembling. “Thanks.”

Neal just nodded and took a long drink of his water before putting the glass on a coaster on the coffee table in front of them. Peter did the same, then removed his bowtie and put it in his jacket pocket before slipping out of the jacket and draping it over the back of the sofa. When he looked back up, Neal was watching him closely.

“Sorry. Not really a tux guy.” He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and sat back, spreading his legs and nudging Neal’s knee with his own. “What?”

“Nothing.” Neal looked down, rubbing his hands nervously on his thighs. “I didn’t know if you’d come up or not.” 

“Well, sure – why wouldn’t I?” There was no answer, but Peter could see a blush rising in Neal’s pale cheeks. “Neal?”

Neal shrugged but finally brought his eyes back up to meet Peter’s, and the older man was startled by the weariness there. It wasn’t just from spending the evening entertaining; it was deep and pervasive, and Peter couldn’t help wondering what put it there. It was hard to imagine what could have been so utterly devastating as to leave this vital young man shaken to his very core.

“Peter, I…” He trailed off and swallowed audibly. “I need to make sure you understand, before we get too far into this, that I – I come with more baggage than an airport and more issues than a magazine stand.” He offered a humorless half-smile. “I don’t know how much June told you, but I can understand if you want out.”

Peter’s gut clenched, and his eyes moved over Neal’s face. Neal was struggling to not look away, and Peter wanted to say something, but he forced himself to stop and think for a moment, not wanting to sound dismissive. The statement had come out of nowhere, though, and it caught him off-guard. The last thing he wanted was a way out, and his chest ached with the thought that maybe that was what _Neal_ wanted.

“Neal, I – I don’t want out. And I have some experience with baggage and issues.” He reached for one of Neal’s hands and was relieved when the younger man’s fingers curled around his own. Still, he had to be sure. “Do – do you want me to go?”

“No.” Neal shook his head slowly. His voice was low when he continued, a hint of a tremor in it. “I want you to be here. I want to be with you more than…well, more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time. I just need to make sure you understand what you’re getting into before we go much further.”

Peter wanted to tell him they’d already gone too far, that he’d already fallen hard, but he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“What I understand is that I want to be with you, and I'd like to try - really try. If you're not ready, I'm willing to wait until you are. I don't want to, you know, rush things. Or hurt you. And I don't need to know what happened until you're ready to tell me. I can help, too, if that's what it takes.”

“Why?” Neal’s wide eyes were blinking rapidly, struggling to keep from tearing up, and it tugged at Peter's own heartstrings.

“Because I think you're worth it.”

Neal's face crumpled, and he got up quickly, walking to the wall of windows overlooking the large terrace outside. Though he managed not to break down, he hung his head and hid his face in his hands, shoulders slumping. Peter stood and went to Neal’s side, running a soothing hand up and down his back, listening to the younger man’s shaky respirations and wondering what happened in his past that made him so insecure. 

After several minutes, Neal finally ran both hands through his hair and took a cleansing breath, looking up but not quite meeting Peter’s eyes.

“You, um - you really think that?”

“Yes, I do,” Peter answered without hesitation. His hand slipped up around Neal's shoulder, and he pulled the other man to his side. Neal’s own arm went around Peter's lower back, and after standing in silence for a few moments, he led them back to the sofa. This time when they sat down, Neal sank into Peter's side, his earlier tension nearly gone. 

“Worn out?” 

“I'm exhausted,” Neal admitted, resting his head against Peter's shoulder. “I used to do events like this all the time, but now…well, it’s been a long time.” He paused for a moment, then added in a weary near-whisper. “And I don’t really sleep.”

Peter caught himself before he asked why. He wrapped an arm around Neal and shifted to lean back into the corner of the small sofa. Neal came along willingly, snuggling into Peter’s chest with a contented sigh. They sat there in the dimly-lit room for several minutes, neither of them speaking, and Peter was relieved to feel the younger man relaxing against him, the last of the tension leaving his muscles as he melted into the warmth and safety of Peter’s body.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“You said you got through what happened to you with the help of a therapist, right?”

“I did. The first one I saw was pretty bad, but I got a referral for a different one – Dr. Parker – and she made all the difference. I still see her sometimes, if I hit a rough patch.” Peter hesitated before continuing. He didn’t usually reveal much about the therapy to anyone, but he was willing to do just about anything if it would help Neal conquer whatever demons were living inside him, keeping him in a very dark place that Peter knew all too well. “I had a pretty bad case of PTSD by the time I got to her. She helped me find my way back.”

“Is she someone you’d recommend? Or would that be too awkward? I mean…” He trailed off, his thumb rubbing nervously at Peter’s thigh.

“No, I don’t think it’d be awkward.” Peter spoke carefully, trying not to force the issue or embarrass Neal. “If you, uh, think you might be interested, I can get you in with her. Or give you a card.” 

“Yeah,” Neal said softly. “Maybe. I – I tried someone else, someone June helped me find, but it just…didn’t work out.” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost as though he was afraid she’d hear him. “She doesn’t know I stopped going. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.” He slid his arm around Peter’s waist. “But I can’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t keep going like this, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” Peter replied, his voice nearly as soft as Neal’s.

“And she helped? With the…” He lifted his head to look up at Peter, and the older man was startled by the haunted look in his eyes.

Peter had seen it before, staring back at him in the mirror in the months after he was shot. It broke his heart to see it in those beautiful blue eyes, and he swallowed hard. “The nightmares. Yeah. And the flashbacks, the survivor’s guilt. It didn’t happen overnight, but Ellen – Dr. Parker – helped more than anything. Definitely more than those damned pills the first one gave me.”

Neal nodded knowingly but didn’t say anything. He leaned up and gave Peter a soft kiss, then settled back in with his head on Peter’s chest. “Okay.”

Once again, they fell into a comfortable silence, and within minutes, Peter felt Neal’s respirations slow down and even out. For someone who claimed to have so much trouble sleeping, Neal seemed to settle quickly into a deep sleep, not even stirring when Peter reached back over his own shoulder to grab the remote from the end table. Thankfully, the volume on the TV was already set low enough that it didn’t wake Neal, and Peter muted it altogether before finding _Rio Bravo_ on a classic movie channel. He stroked Neal’s hair gently as he watched the movie, and the younger man’s only response was to nestle into Peter’s body even more.

Though he hadn’t planned to fall asleep, Peter woke gradually sometime later to a reassuring weight on his body, a dull ache in his back, and a warm, clammy chest. Neal was still dead to the world, his face buried in Peter’s shirt. Peter smiled down at him; it felt good to see Neal getting some well-needed rest, in spite of the fact that the sofa was way too small for even one of them and wasn’t particularly comfortable.

Stifling a yawn, Peter glanced up at the TV, only to notice that they were now playing something with Rory Calhoun. He squinted at his watch and was stunned to see that they’d been sleeping for a little over three hours. As he debated whether or not to wake Neal, if only to give both of their bodies some relief, a sharp twinge in his lower back made him gasp – and made the decision for him.

“Neal,” he whispered, fingers drifting up and down the younger man’s arm. Neal stirred and snuffled into his shirt but didn’t wake, and Peter silently cursed his aching muscles. He really didn’t want to disturb Neal’s slumber, but he needed to get him moved to the ornate bed across the room and then get home to his own bed.

“Neal?” Peter shifted and stroked some of Neal’s hair back away from his forehead. 

Finally, Neal let out a soft groan and stirred, bringing a hand up to rub clumsily at his face. It took a moment for him to register where he was and who was underneath him, but when it did, he sat up with a start.

“Shit,” he breathed, pushing himself to the other half of the sofa and eyeing Peter warily. “I – I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be.” Peter held up his hands in a placating gesture and smiled. Neal’s expression was starting to make him uncomfortable, and he tried to give the younger man a reassuring look. “Really, I don’t mind.”

“No, I shouldn’t have nodded off on you. I’m really sorry. Sometimes I’m such an idiot.”

Peter had been preparing to offer him another assurance, but his mouth snapped shut as he heard that last word. He stared at Neal and shook his head slowly. “Why?” he finally managed.

“Uh, how about because I fell asleep on you. Literally – and probably in the middle of a conversation.” He looked disgusted with himself; the ferocity of it hurt a place in Peter’s heart that hadn’t felt much in a long time. There were so many things he wanted to say to Neal in that moment, things that thrilled and terrified him all at once, things Neal deserved to hear every day. He decided, though, to start with something safe.

“If it helps, I fell asleep, too.”

Neal gave him a dubious look. “Closing your eyes to rest them doesn’t count, Peter.”

“On the contrary,” Peter replied, tilting his head. “We were both out for a few hours.”

“What?” Neal’s eyes went wide, and he looked around nervously.

Peter finally couldn’t take it anymore. He slid over next to Neal and took both of the younger man’s hands in his own, looking deep into his eyes. “Will you please relax? It’s okay. Really. To be honest, it, uh – it felt pretty good, and I was actually happy to see you getting some rest. You were out like a light.”

Neal’s eyes searched his for a long minute, a silent interrogation, but Peter didn’t blink. Finally, his gaze softened, and his fingers curled around Peter’s. “Okay, um...thanks, Peter.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was actually a hint of the Neal who’d brought Peter dinner on Tuesday night. “A few hours, huh? That’s probably the most continuous sleep I’ve gotten since Wednesday.”

“Did it help?” Peter gave him a small smile, and Neal returned it.

“Yeah, I think it did.” Something passed over his expression, and the smile faded just a bit. “You won’t have any trouble getting home, will you?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. I should let you get back to sleep anyway.” Peter gave Neal’s fingers one last squeeze before letting go and stretching on the edge of the sofa. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

Neal pointed to a door next to the refrigerator. “Through that door, at the end of the hall.”

Peter thanked him and headed to the bathroom. When he returned, Neal was in the small kitchen, adding water to the coffeemaker. Peter gave him a curious look. “Aren’t you going to bed?”

“I, uh…no. I’m probably done for the night.” He couldn’t quite meet Peter’s eyes. “I might do some sketching until the news comes on, or maybe work on memorizing a few more off-menu drink recipes.”

“Neal.” Peter tried not to sound condescending, but he was genuinely worried about the other man. “You need to get some more sleep, really.” He pulled out the trump card. “Especially if we’re going out this weekend.”

Neal’s eyebrows shot up at that last statement, but the hopeful look quickly faded. “Peter, I – I wish I could, but…”

“Is it nightmares?”

Neal nodded and turned away, opening the cupboard and pulling out a bag of coffee. 

“Maybe you’ll be okay tonight. I mean, you didn’t even move for three hours.”

Neal went very still, his eyes closed, and Peter walked over to stand beside him. He wrapped an arm around Neal’s shoulders, and Neal turned, leaning into him.

“It was you,” he murmured, his own arms circling Peter’s back.

“What was me?”

Neal shrugged and dropped his forehead to Peter’s shoulder. “I feel safe with you.”

The comment – and the realization that came with it – sent Peter’s mind reeling. If it was true that his presence alone kept Neal from having a nightmare, and if he wanted Neal to get more sleep, there was only one solution, but it was a decision Peter didn’t want to make lightly. 

As the minutes passed, neither of them spoke, but it was clear that even now, Neal was taking refuge in Peter’s arms. He’d practically melted into Peter’s body, his soft breaths warm against the older man’s shoulder.

Finally, Peter sighed and pulled away far enough to look into Neal’s eyes. “If I stay, you’ll go to bed?”

Neal’s eyes widened, and again, he looked like he thought he was unworthy. “You – you’d really do that?”

“If you promise to try to go back to sleep.” Peter stroked Neal’s cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” Neal said with a nod, his eyes serious. “Of course.” He glanced down at Peter’s tux. “Shit. I know I don’t have anything that’ll fit you for tomorrow.”

“I have an overnight bag in the car.” When Neal gaped at him, Peter shook his head and held up a hand. “Don’t read anything into it. When Diana and I work an event together, we sometimes go back to her place afterward to hang out – especially since she broke up with her girlfriend. I don’t have the alcohol tolerance I used to have, so I usually crash there to sleep off whatever we end up drinking.” He gave Neal a sheepish smile, and the younger man finally seemed to relax again.

“You mean if I’d wanted you to stay, I should have just gotten you drunk?” Neal gave him a soft smile, and before Peter could respond, he found himself on the receiving end of a sweet kiss. “Come on. I’ll go along with you to let you back in. Everyone else is probably asleep.”

They made it down and back quickly, and Peter went back to the bathroom to change into his pajama bottoms, in spite of Neal’s raised eyebrows. He wasn’t quite ready for the younger man to see his scarred left leg, not because of shame, but because he didn’t want the peacefulness of their night to be disturbed by thoughts of such a tragic event. 

As Neal took his own turn in the bathroom, Peter stood at the terrace doors, looking out over the sparkling lights of a city that seemed both near and distant at the same time. He was still having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that Neal actually lived here, in a place Peter had admired from afar for years. 

A pair of arms wrapped around Peter’s shirtless body from behind, and Neal’s lips traced a tender path across his right shoulder. Peter put his hands over Neal’s, keeping them around his stomach, knowing what would happen to him if those fingers made it up to his chest...or went in the opposite direction. Thankfully, Neal seemed to understand, and he rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder.

“So, you’re sure about this?” he asked, his tone subdued. 

“I’m sure. How about you? Second thoughts?” Peter turned to face him, but Neal looked away, out the windows.

“I’m – I want you to stay. I just…” His eyes finally met Peter’s, and the older man understood immediately. Neal was afraid he’d have a nightmare while Peter was there, that Peter would see into the dark part of his mind.

“Hey,” Peter said softly, taking Neal’s face in his hands. “It’s okay. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. If it happens, we’ll deal with it.” He brushed his lips across Neal’s. “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn’t, though.”

Neal nodded, and Peter saw traces of hope – and tears – spring up in his eyes before he closed them. When he opened them again, they were full of pure gratitude. “Thanks, Peter. That means a lot.” He offered a shy smile that Peter couldn’t help mirroring, and Peter knew he’d made the right choice by offering to stay.

“Come on. Let’s get some sleep.” He wrapped an arm around Neal’s shoulders and guided him to the bed. They slipped under the covers, both shirtless but wearing pajama pants. Normally, being half-naked in bed with a gorgeous man – especially one to whom he was so attracted – would have been too much temptation for Peter. This time, though, he just wanted to get some sleep. Wanted _Neal_ to get some sleep. Anything else could wait.

“Is this okay?” Peter asked after they got settled, facing each other in the near-darkness. Neal nodded but didn’t meet Peter’s eyes. “Look, it’s fine if you want to try something else.”

Neal pressed his head to Peter’s chest, but said nothing. For as easy as it had been on the sofa, it was awkward now, trying to figure out where he belonged, where Neal needed him to be. Peter hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since before the shootings, and his last boyfriend back then had been decidedly standoffish when it came to sleeping.

Finally, Neal pushed himself up on one arm and used the other to roll Peter onto his back, then curled up against his side with his head on Peter’s chest. “Are you okay like this?”

“I’m good,” Peter said, his fingers trailing over Neal’s back. “I can sleep just about anywhere.”

Neal draped an arm over Peter’s stomach and sighed. “I can hear your heartbeat.” Peter hummed an acknowledgement and pulled the sheet up over them. They lay there in silence for several minutes, and just as Peter thought Neal might be drifting off, the younger man spoke. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“Hmm?”

“I used to be different,” Neal said, voice soft and wistful. “Not clingy like this. I was outgoing, and I was really confident. I will be again someday, I think. Being with you helps – it helps a lot. Tuesday night, dinner with you, you know…that was the best I’ve felt in a long time.” His voice dropped even lower. “You help me remember what it’s like to be happy.”

Peter’s chest tightened, and a lump formed in his throat. He felt like he needed to say something, anything, but he couldn’t speak. Instead, he gave Neal’s shoulder a squeeze, knowing full well that the younger man could feel him struggling. 

A few minutes passed before Neal finally let him off the hook. “Goodnight, Peter,” he whispered, turning his head just enough to plant a kiss on Peter’s chest. Again, Peter tried to answer and failed, but Neal seemed to understand. He settled down, and it wasn’t long until his breathing evened out and his body went limp against Peter’s.

Peter waited until he was sure Neal was asleep before reaching up to wipe away the wetness at the corners of his eyes. Neal’s words had reminded him of his own solitary struggle a few short years earlier – the days when all he wanted was someone to hold him close, make him feel safe, chase away the nightmares and the paranoia and the bone-deep loneliness. It meant a lot to Peter that Neal was willing to let him in, let him be that person that Peter himself hadn’t had. The attraction between them was strong and had come easily, but now Neal was giving him something that needed to be earned – his trust. 

As Peter finally started to succumb to the pull of sleep, he couldn’t help thinking about how strongly he felt about the man beside him. He’d felt an immediate attraction to Neal from the first time he saw him, and though he wasn’t usually so impulsive about relationships, he’d quickly fallen hard for the gorgeous young man.

The feelings were obviously mutual, and in spite of Neal’s recent past, Peter wanted more with him. He wanted to know that happy, confident man that Neal had mentioned. He wanted to know what it felt like to make love to Neal, to watch him come apart, to hear the sounds he made at the height of his pleasure.

He wanted to see a smile that was totally unguarded, to hear the younger man break out in unabashed laughter, to dance with him or cook with him or simply walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk with him. And he wanted to be there whenever Neal needed him, to love and be loved.

He could only hope that Neal wanted the same things. It was that hope for his future – for _their_ future – that finally ushered him into a deep and peaceful sleep.

***


End file.
